Look it! Shiny new chapter! And it's only been ... two years? Eh-heh. *slinks away*
Forty-Five
Freshly armed with a double-espresso mochaccino, sugar-loaded carbs, and the latest information, Charley got down to business at her ancient computer, applying all of her hacking skills to the task of discovering just who Mary Johnson was and how she had gotten involved with Limburger.
After a few minutes, however, she stopped typing and swiveled around on her chair to confront the small mob of eyeballs fixed unerringly on the back of her head. "Ya know, I open in forty-five minutes. If I don't get this finished now it'll have to wait 'til the end of the day." Blank stares greeted this announcement. She rolled her eyes. "I'm saying this'll probably go a lot faster without you wrench-heads boring holes into my skull from all sides," she elaborated dryly. "Go find something to do, would ya?" She shooed the crowd off with a wave. "Get my tools ready for me; I've got two inspection appointments showing up first thing."
The mice sheepishly dispersed to do as she asked.
Despite her initial request for the apple fritters, Alley decided that donuts and coffee hardly qualified as a well-rounded breakfast and headed up to the kitchen to whip up some baked oatmeal, with Chex hot on her heels. She pulled ingredients together and started mixing, tried her best to ignore her friend, who had plopped down on a kitchen chair and now sat nearly vibrating with curiosity.
This went on for a good five minutes before Chex finally threw her hands into the air with an impatient, "Well?"
"Well, what?" Alley replied with feigned innocence.
Chex's leg bounced against the floor. "Well, what's up with you and the golden boy down there?"
Alley slid her a sideways glance. "What makes you think anything's up?"
"Uh, gee, I dunno. Maybe it was that thick cloud of unresolved sexual tension I walked through on the way in?"
She rolled her eyes and finished mixing her oatmeal, used a wooden spoon to lump it into a pair of cake pans. "Are you sure you're not imagining things?"
Chex leveled a look at her. "Are you just trying to avoid the subject?"
Alley paused to consider. "Yep!"
"Come ooonnnn," Chex whined. "I'm confused here! I totally thought you were keepin' company with the old guy now. I mean, you've been pretty chummy since Throttle's girl showed up and all…"
Alley opened her mouth, closed it again. Then muttered, "Stoker's not that old and I'm not keeping company with anyone. And Throttle broke up with Carbine, anyway."
"What?" Chex's jaw dropped. "And when did that happen?"
"Um, since before my accident, I guess."
She pouted. "And you were never gonna tell me?"
"Well, things happened. It didn't exactly occur to me to announce it."
She hummed thoughtfully. "That does explain the telephone pole she's got shoved up her ass, though."
Alley snorted a laugh despite herself. "Pretty sure that was there way before I showed up. But she seems to be pretty good friends with Charley and she is Stoker's niece. There's gotta be something good about her or else why would Throttle stick with her for so long?"
"Lack of better options?" Chex pulled a face. "Don't be so nice. She doesn't deserve it."
Alley sighed. "It doesn't matter anyway. Carbine's gone so there's no sense stewing over what happened. And no matter what she did, I don't think Throttle or Stoker would take too kindly to us badmouthing her, so let's drop it before someone overhears."
"Well…" Chex heaved a put-upon sigh. "If we must. But only 'cause I like you." She straightened. "I'd rather talk about you and Throttle, anyhow. So did I totally interrupt a hot-and-heavy makeout session or what?"
Alley nearly dropped the spoon she was holding. "I wouldn't call it hot-and-heavy," she grumbled.
Chex snickered. "That's only 'cause you didn't see the raging boner he was sporting under those sweats when he left."
"Chex!" The spoon clattered to the floor. "He was not!" As tightly as he'd held her, she definitely would've felt something.
Another snicker. "Well, there was some definite bulge happening. Good thing I showed up before things got really awkward, huh?"
Alley chewed her bottom lip. "It was impeccable timing," she admitted, "but I don't think Throttle will thank you for it."
Chex's impish expression melted into something like actual worry. "Ya know … if you don't want him coming on to you, then you should make it really clear. Guys are complete boneheads when it comes to shit like that. And if he doesn't back off when you say to, get some help. Or things could go really badly."
Alley studied her in concern. "Have things … gone badly for you before?" she asked delicately.
Chex remained silent for a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug and a small smile. "Wasn't anything I couldn't handle."
And that, apparently, was that. Alley sighed as she pulled a clean spatula from a drawer and finished pressing the oatmeal into the pans, then slid them into the oven to bake. "I think my problem is that I don't know what I want," she mumbled. "It isn't like I didn't enjoy him kissing me. But starting anything with him now would be stupid. He dumped Carbine, yeah, but he also told me he didn't want a relationship with me, either. So what was that all about?"
"He's looking for a friend with benefits?"
She glowered. "If that's the case, he can look elsewhere."
"Down, girl!" Chex held up her hands soothingly. "That doesn't seem like his style, anyway." She drummed her fingers as she considered. Then her face lit up. "So, like, when you almost died, I bet he just realized what a moron he was being and that he's completely in love with you. I bet he changed his mind about pursuing you."
Alley snorted a laugh. "That's a great sentiment but my life isn't a romance novel," she deadpanned.
"Nah, it's way more like sci-fi with romantic elements thrown in," Chex teased, then ducked with a laugh when the spatula hurled her way. "Look, the best way to find out is straight-out ask him."
"I don't want to straight-out ask him," Alley grumbled. "I don't want to know the answer."
"Why not?"
"Because what if you're right?"
"About him being in love with you?" Chex wrinkled her nose in confusion. "How is that a bad thing?"
"It just… It just is, okay? It'd make everything so awkward and—" Alley broke off and shrugged helplessly. She could hardly explain why she felt that way, only that she did.
Chex tilted her head. "I don't see how. Unless…" Realization dawned and a sly grin curled her lips. "You caught feelings for Stoker, didn't you?"
Alley choked. "Wh-what? No! I—"
"Oh, come on. Admit it! You're totally crushing on the senior citizen." Chex laughed at her expression. "Hey, I'm not criticizing! There's something to be said for mature men and experience. I'll bet he's got lots to share with you…"
"Do you always have to turn every conversation into something about sex? You're worse than Stoker and Vinnie combined," Alley complained.
"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Unrepentant, Chex pressed, "Has he made a move yet?"
"He's been making moves since I met him."
"No, I mean a serious move."
Alley bit her lip, recalling the soft, slow kisses they'd shared in her hospital room. Just comfort after a harrowing experience, she'd told herself. But it had certainly felt serious at the time. If her dad hadn't walked in on them…
"That's a yes." Chex couldn't have looked more smug if she tried.
"Stoker is leaving," Alley reminded her. "He's flying back to Mars. An entirely different planet. It's not like we can just hop a plane and see each other whenever we want! He has to go back and doesn't know when he'll visit again. Trying to start anything with him at this point is just … pointless!"
"Where there's a will, there's a way." Chex nodded sagely.
Alley rolled her eyes. "He'll just forget about me when he gets home. He's got his own reputation, you know. Plus, he's a war hero. I'm sure there are plenty of available females ready and willing to hop into his arms whenever he wants. Gunner certainly seemed interested while she was here and he wasn't pushing her away."
"Ooooo, somebody sounds a little jealous," Chex teased.
Alley bit her lip, realizing she was right. "Anyway, can we please drop the subject? I don't want to think about it anymore right now."
Chex apparently decided to take pity because she made a zipping motion across her lips and picked up a stack of paper plates and napkins to cart downstairs, leaving Alley to handle the oatmeal.
Stoker had returned by the time Alley made it back to the garage with breakfast in hand. Someone had set up the card table in the corner and she beelined for it with a hot pan in each hand. "Coming through!" she warned and Stoker backed away from where he'd been perusing the contents of the donut bags.
She hastily dropped the oatmeal onto the table before it ended up all over the floor, her wrists and damaged arm already aching from the strain of carrying it all the way down from the kitchen. Her side also ached and she stepped back with a grimace, irritated with her weakness as she flexed her stiff fingers.
"Now, I thought you were told not to overdo it," Stoker scolded as he took her hand into his to gently massage.
Alley huffed. "I didn't think I was. I'm getting better, at least. Last week I wouldn't have made it past the kitchen." His snort made her smile, but it faded when his expression suddenly shifted into one of puzzlement. His nose twitched and she realized he was subtly sniffing the air. One eyebrow rose as his gaze darted between her and Throttle, who was busily setting up Charley's workspace with surprising efficiency.
Too late, Alley abruptly recalled their heightened senses, realized Stoker could probably smell Throttle all over her. Just like that first time. She pulled her hand from his grasp and turned away, busied herself with arranging the food as she tried to ignore the hot flush she could feel creeping up her neck. "We'll need forks for the oatmeal. Think you could go up and grab some for me?" She was proud that her voice came out steadily and not too loud. Not as if she was currently dying of embarrassment.
A moment of silence and she mentally braced herself for the questions she knew were coming her way. Instead, his warm presence at her back vanished and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief, inexplicably irritated with herself. And him. And Throttle. She somehow felt like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar and crumbs all over her face and that irritated her, too. It wasn't like she'd done anything wrong, damn it! And it wasn't anyone's business anyway … so why did she suddenly feel so guilty?
"Smells good."
She almost leaped out of her own skin at the sound of Throttle's voice. "Jiminy Christmas don't sneak up like that!" she snapped, hand pressed over her pounding heart.
He raised an eyebrow and slowly raised his hands in a mock-show of surrender. "You okay?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
One corner of his mouth twitched up. "Maybe 'cause you look like you'd tip right over if someone sneezed on you. The bags under your eyes take up most of your face. Wanna sit down?"
She shot him a sulky glare before letting the tension drain out of her shoulders. Giving up. "Nah. I'm just gonna eat a donut and go back to bed. I'm wiped."
"Good idea." He picked up one of the coffees, took a curious sip and grimaced. "Blergh! Seriously, how can you guys drink this stuff?"
She snorted a laugh. "If you try some cream and sweetener you might find it more to your taste," she said dryly. To her cousin she added, "You need me for anything?"
Charley's intense gaze never left the computer as she waved Alley off with one hand, the other busily tapping away at the keyboard.
Chex—currently glued to Modo's side as he polished a tray of tools—called out "Sweet dreams!" with a lascivious waggle of eyebrows and a knowing grin.
Alley's return smile was saccharine as she waved briefly… Then flipped her hand over to deliver a rude gesture that made Throttle choke on a mouthful of coffee and Chex nearly double over with laughter.
Alley roused slowly from sleep by a soft yet insistent knocking on her door. She blearily stumbled her way out of bed and opened it to find Stoker waiting on the other side. "What a surprise. Usually you guys just barge right on in," she stated dryly as she stepped back to let him enter.
"Didn't want to disturb the lady, but…" He held up his medical kit with an apologetic smile. "I also have orders to inform you that lunch is in the fridge whenever you want it."
"Lunch? What time is it?" A quick glance at the clock made Alley's eyes widen. It was almost two PM! "Ugh. I should've set an alarm." No wonder she felt so groggy. She'd been sleeping for almost six hours!
"Mind if we get started?" He nodded toward the bed and it took a few seconds for her to remember that he'd promised to look over her wounds. She bit her lip and nodded, unenthusiastic about the concept of being trapped alone with him in her small bedroom after what had happened that morning.
Relax, she scolded herself. He was a professional at this. He wouldn't make things awkward by bringing up that subject now. Right?
She sat patiently as Stoker checked her side. His hand caressed softly over her skin as he cleaned her healing wound and she couldn't help squirming at the ticklish brush of his fingers while he taped fresh bandages over it. He undid the ones around her bicep to check that over as well while she stared at the wall, all too aware of his close proximity, his breath warm on her neck and shoulder as he worked.
If he noticed her fluster, he didn't comment on it. Keeping it professional just as she'd hoped. Finally, to her immense relief, he sat back with a satisfied nod. "Looks good. It's all healing nicely. Stitches should be coming out soon."
She nodded and straightened her shirt. "Thanks, Stoker," she murmured. Then struggled for a moment to think of a safe subject. "I guess, uh, you'll be going home soon, huh? Now that you caught Limburger."
He cocked his head and eyed her. "You almost sound disappointed," he teased, reached up to cup her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I would've thought you'd be throwin' a party."
She offered a weak smile. "Guess I kind of got used to you being here. It'll be a lot more quiet once you leave."
He snorted. "With those three mud puppies still hangin' around? I highly doubt that." His smile faded and he studied her for a few unnerving moments, expression serious. Then, slowly, he leaned in.
She froze, holding her breath as his mouth touched hers in a soft caress, pressed more firmly as he sought to deepen the kiss. And she allowed it for a lingering moment, gathered the will and pressed her hands to his chest to push him away. "I wish you wouldn't," she whispered.
He studied her. "Then why allow it?"
She bit her tingling lip, unsure. "Because I ... I wanted you to," she finally admitted.
His brow furrowed. A slight shake of his head. "I'm gettin' mixed signals here, darlin'," he said, voice low. "Not sure I like it."
She huffed. "What do you want from me, Stoker? You're leaving and you said yourself you have no idea if you'll be back. What's the point of starting this ... this ... whatever this is when you won't even be here?" She glowered up at him. "You wanna talk mixed signals?"
His unnerving, too-knowing gaze never left hers. "You sure that's the only reason?" he asked after a few moments.
Her heart skipped as her gaze slid away. "It's the only one that matters," she muttered, guilty. She'd never in a million years admit that she wasn't quite sure she trusted him. Long distance relationships were one thing, but he'd be a billion miles away on another planet, surrounded by beautiful Martian women who probably found it as difficult to resist his charms as she did. And she hadn't forgotten the sight of him flirting away with Gunner all those weeks ago, perfectly happy with her attention and obvious interest.
Besides that ... there was also Throttle. After that incident outside the garage, her feelings were all mixed up. She was fond of Stoker—Hell, more than fond of him if she was being completely honest—but there was still that intense attraction to the golden mouse that hadn't yet gone away. If anything, after the way he'd kissed her that morning, the way he'd made it perfectly clear that he still desired her, despite his insistence on maintaining distance ... she found him more attractive than ever.
Alley dragged her thoughts back to the present, well aware of Stoker's quiet observation and the fact that he could probably read her feelings loud and clear. She could practically feel his disappointment—ln her? In her refusal?—and felt even worse to realize that she'd hurt him with her lack of faith and her wishy-washy feelings. "Stoker, I'm—" she began, only to pause as his finger pressed to her lips.
"You ain't wrong," he said, voice low. "I can't expect you to stay down here, waitin' for me to come back when there ain't no guarantee I ever will. And it ain't like I can take you up there with me." He abruptly stood, taking the med kit with him. "It's lousy timing though, eh?" He offered a grin and a cheeky wink. "We could've had some real fun while I was here."
Alley blinked at his abrupt withdrawal, both physically and emotionally. She was no empath, but even she couldn't miss the walls he'd just slammed up and her heart sank further even as she forced a smile around the tremble on her lips. "Guess it's your loss," she rejoined weakly, although her heart clearly wasn't in it.
Stoker chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah," he replied softly. "I guess maybe it is."